A child is born
by delusaedisillusa
Summary: In which Joffrey is named Steffon and Cersei isn't there to raise him


Her hair were damp and darker due the sweat.

Her sweet voice hoarse due her continuing screaming, she was red with strain.

Even so she was beautiful.

He had the feeling the whole kingdom was in the room, but only one other man was there.

A man, people, who shouldn't be allowed to see her in this state, he swallowed his malcontent, his twin needed him.

Childbirth was a maddening dirty business.

He could have renounced to experience it, but never would he had left her.

The prince,for what she had been sure it would be a boy, took his time and Cersei's strength.

Nervous, tired and worried he started to resent the child.

The child. Never his child.

Cersei had been adamant, as soon as she had suspected to be pregnant shortly after Greenshit, she had started to fret and listened the 'Do and Don'ts' as the prince's uncle.

Reminding that an error could cost their heads.

His mind was clothed with fatigue, but he could remember the absolute first three: don't hold him. Don't moon over him. Don't show any undue affection.

Grand maestar Pycelle, looked worried and he could sense the women in the room were too.

He had been so concentrated on Cersei he had missed it.

He couldn't feel his hand anymore she had wrung his sword hand till he thought he hadn't a hand at all.

Finally after a push and a shuddering cry the babe came out of his sister's cunt.

"The first and the last" he hoped. He had helped her quite enthusiastically in making a heir, but never again would he let Cersei suffer like this.

"A boy" Pycelle announced as the bloody thing started to wail like a cat.

Jaime's attention wasn't focused on the babe neither on the hags squealing and laughing, his eyes were on his worn out sister.

"My little cub" she smiled, pale with brilliant eyes.

Those were her last words.

His grandmother had died after giving birth, his mother died while giving birth, that Cersei could have shared this destiny, his fierce and strong sister, no he couldn't have believe this.

Robert named the golden haired pink thing, a thing never worthy of his mother's life, Steffon.

Lysa Arryn the woman who would have been his wife, played mother for a child he had fathered.

Life was strange.

The king played with the thing. The big muscled black haired man holding the beautiful golden babe was an image that touched the heart of many women.

Robert was, after losing Lyanna Stark and his wife, a tragic figure.

The fact that he fucked the thing's nurse barely a fortnight after Cersei's death and that he brought his bastard daughter at court, didn't cause any affront.

He knew Cersei would have raged, he knew she wouldn't have wanted to Robert, Jon and Lysa Arryn to raise her child, but he wasn't able to even look at him.

His father wasn't glad about this arrangement.

"As the prince's uncle you have to be more involved in his life! The boy is half a Lannister, not an Arryn!" His requests remained unheard.

His life was a nightmare, a nightmare he helped to produce.

Sometimes he could feel her, her demanding touch, never gentle. Her searing kisses, the way she would fight for dominance. Her poisonous remarks. Her blazing eyes.

The innocent times when she had been his twin and shadow, the times when she became the only woman he had wanted.

Their first time in the Eel Alley, the fortnight he spent with her at Casterly Rock, before Robert, before the throne, before he had to share her.

The time as she came to him, after her wedding, the relief as she told him that she would ever only love him.

Greenstone, as he planted her death in her.

He just needed to going away inside, and there she was waiting for him.

Waiting to be together again.

A few years later he finally joined her.

Jaime Lannister died heroically during the Greyjoy rebellion.

As he died the smile on his face wasn't his usual cutting one, but one of joy and gratefulness.

Like the last one of his sister.

Robert Baratheon had countless mistresses, but never married again, when in his cups he would call his lovers Lyanna and sometimes Cersei.

Steffon Baratheon was raised by the Arryns, whom he loved like true parents, later he would marry their daughter Aemma.

Westeros would remember Jaime as the knight who slayed a king and died to protect another.

Cersei as the frail beauty who brought the golden hair in the Baratheon's dynasty.


End file.
